


i’m so savage, an animal; call me ruthless, i’m hannibal

by Zoadgo



Series: Kinktober 2018 [9]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ABO dynamics, Beta McCreary, Bondage, Fingering, M/M, Omega Murphy, Omegaverse, Possessiveness, Pre-established dynamics, Questionable Consent, heat - Freeform, light degradation, near fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: It had taken McCreary far too long to find an Omega suitable for him, but he's glad he waited. Dark hair, lean muscles, and pale skin that takes bruises and bitemarks oh so beautifully; Murphy would have been perfect enough just on his looks alone. Add in his talent for espionage and sabotage, and the fact that he hates Alphas almost as much as McCreary, despite his nature, and he’s the only possible choice for a mate.Of course, Murphy’s not up to any sort of criminal activity right now, and won’t be for the next few days.





	i’m so savage, an animal; call me ruthless, i’m hannibal

**Author's Note:**

> [title song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vrpe6249v3Q)
> 
> Today's prompt was for **Bondage** and I got a lot of requests to write something for McCreary x Murphy! I couldn't figure out how to make their dynamic work in a way I can write well in canon, and I've been reading a lot of ABO stuff lately, so yeah. Also there's not enough stuff focusing on the class barrier and such for Betas, I think it's a fascinating concept and makes for a more interesting relationship dynamic

McCreary should have been born an Alpha. He’s got all the traits going for him; strong, violent, ruthless, dominant. For the longest time, he’d been convinced that when he took the test at 18, he’d be confirmed in his status and become the official leader of his territory.

_The world needs Betas too, Paxton._

The words are poison ingrained in McCreary’s mind. If only he’d been born an Alpha instead of some boring Beta, he would have never needed to try this hard. All the wars, the murders, all that shit with Diyoza, it could have been avoided. But people don’t listen to a Beta, not the same way they do to an Alpha. McCreary had learned they could be convinced, however. Murder has a funny way of making class divisions less obvious.

In time, he took the territory that should have been his from the start, marked it with blood. The Graveyard, they called it, named his boys ‘skeletons’. For a while, that was enough for him. But all McCreary had ever wanted was to be an Alpha, and there’s more to that than just lording it over others and killing people who stand in your way.

Like claiming an Omega.

It had taken him far too long to find one suitable for him, but McCreary is glad he waited. Dark hair, lean muscles, and pale skin that takes bruises and bitemarks oh so beautifully; Murphy would have been perfect enough just on his looks alone. Add in his talent for espionage and sabotage, and the fact that he hates Alphas almost as much as McCreary, despite his nature, and he’s the only possible choice for a mate.

Of course, Murphy’s not up to any sort of criminal activity right now, and won’t be for the next few days. That much is evident, because when McCreary goes to check on Murphy before bunking down for the night - or day, technically, criminal empires don’t stick to a nine to five schedule - he sees Murphy curled around his stomach, shivering and sweating.

Murphy doesn’t get sick. Ever.

McCreary smiles to himself; even without an Alpha’s senses he’s able to smell Murphy’s pheromones. Murphy must have been holding off his heat for as long as possible, like he always does. Stubborn as hell and twice as sinful, that one.

“Omega,” McCreary growls the word into the room, noting the way Murphy practically jumps at the title. He doesn’t roll over to look at McCreary, though, remaining in his miserable ball.

“Fuck off.” He sounds half drunk, and entirely angry. Par for the course for Murphy’s heat, then; he seems to hate being an Omega as much as McCreary hates being a Beta. Which is probably why he sought McCreary out, saying he would be his mate as long as McCreary could keep him safe from other Alphas. 

He made no requests about being kept safe from McCreary himself.

With a sigh, McCreary crosses the room, heavy boots ringing a death knoll against the ground. Murphy shivers hard enough for McCreary to see, and he arches his neck ever so slightly, baring it for a mark even though there’s no true Alpha present to do so. McCreary crouches behind him and leans in, inhaling his scent like dark chocolate.

“You want to try that again?” McCreary’s tone is a warning that Murphy pays no heed to.

“Sorry, did I stutter? Fuck. Off.”

Before Murphy can even take another breath, McCreary grabs him by the back of the neck, dragging him bodily out of his bed. Without the pheromones and physical aspect of an Alpha to subdue Murphy’s heat, all McCreary has is aggression, but that he has in spades. Murphy struggles slightly as McCreary forces him from his room and down the hall to McCreary’s own, but it’s not a real fight. It never is, but pretenses count for so much, they’re both intimately aware of that.

McCreary kicks open the door and practically throws Murphy into the room. Well, perhaps not ‘practically’, he actually does. Murphy stumbles and goes to his knees a few steps into the room. He could get up again, but he doesn’t, bright light highlighting the flush on his cheeks. He’s beautiful, especially in heat, so ready for all of McCreary’s...particular attentions.

It’s bittersweet, knowing he has a heated Omega in his control, and also knowing he can never properly mate him. Well, never let it be said that McCreary isn’t willing to adapt to circumstances. He strolls over to Murphy, entirely undisturbed or rushed; the one benefit of being a Beta is that Murphy’s heat doesn’t really affect him. McCreary is free from the constraints of rut, able to play with him as much as he chooses to.

He runs his hand up the back of Murphy’s neck into his hair, and Murphy flinches from the touch. Glaring, McCreary repeats the action, but the results are the same. Someone’s playing hard to get, this time.

“Did you- shit- Didn’t you hear me, old man? I told you to-” Murphy starts, entirely undermining his own attempts at being tough by stumbling over his own words with an almost-moan.

“I do think I remember something about fucking?” McCreary cuts him off, grabbing Murphy’s hair by force, rather than the gentle touch he might have bestowed instead. Not that he wants to be gentle, this way plays far more into McCreary’s tastes than any other.

“Hn- Yeah. I mean, no, I-” 

“Shut up, Murphy.” McCreary bends down to growl the words in Murphy’s ear, crowding his back.

“I’m pretty famously bad at that. So, once again-”

McCreary releases Murphy’s hair with a shove and a disappointed noise, turning away to his wall of toys, meticulously arranged by some skeleton who has a knack for organization. 

“-fuck off.”

It only takes McCreary a second to find what he’s looking for, and within a few seconds of Murphy finishing his sentiment, he’s grabbed it and returned to his position behind Murphy. In stark contrast to his words, Murphy’s still sitting in perfect submissive position; on his knees, head bowed, never even looking in McCreary’s direction. So pretty, his Omega, so ripe for the taking. 

“So rude,” McCreary tuts. “Until you’re a bit more cooperative with that mouth of yours, I think it’s best we shut it up, hm?”

As Murphy opens his mouth to make some smart ass reply once more, McCreary loops he gag he’d grabbed in front of him, sliding it home. Murphy takes the ball of it so easily, only a small noise of surprise as any form of complaint. Not that he could articulate anything else, as McCreary secures the straps around the back of his head. 

As soon as the gag is tied in place, Murphy smacks McCreary’s hands away. Still putting up a front, even though he’d waited this long to put up a fight, and that hardly counts as struggling. On some level, it’s funny to McCreary like an angry kitten, but for the most part it annoys him. Murphy is his prize to claim, and he doesn’t want to be held back, even if such restraint is only a show.

“You really should be more grateful, Omega. Do you know how many of your kind would love to have an Alpha as powerful as me?” McCreary taunts as he returns to his supplies. Metal catches his eye, and he toys with the idea. Watching Murphy rubs his own wrists raw, desperate for a touch McCreary is more than capable of withholding… It’s a tempting image.

In the end, he decides to forgo it. Any other time, sure, but McCreary isn’t a total monster. He’s not going to torture an Omega in heat, even though he does so love torturing people. Maybe if the Omega in question were Diyoza’s boy, but not his own. No, he’ll give Murphy what he so clearly craves.

“Hold still,” McCreary orders, depositing his bounty on the ground next to Murphy. Murphy breaks his perfect pose to glance at it, and thus decides the first part to be applied.

McCreary picks up the black silk blindfold, securing it around Murphy’s eyes efficiently. Murphy trembles under his touch, leaking that bittersweet scent into the room. Good, so this was what he wanted. To be taken, played with. Responsibility for his actions taken away from him by force. McCreary smiles; he’s very good at taking whatever he wants by force.

Once the blindfold is in place, and the silent surrender it entails offered up, McCreary slides a knife from his boot. Military issue, not the type for play, but he won’t be using it long anyway. The sound of tearing fabric fills the room, and Murphy whimpers as McCreary ruins every scrap of clothing, rending it from his slender frame.

Murphy tries to cover himself in his nudity, even after McCreary wrests his hands away by force once or twice. Well, that won’t do, but that’s why McCreary gathered quite as much as he did from the wall.

First, to ensure Murphy can’t conceal himself: plush, padded leather handcuffs, far nicer than Murphy’s behaviour in this moment deserves. McCreary fastens them in place, locking Murphy’s hands in front of him. With only a little prompting, he shifts forward onto his hand and knees, thighs together and ass presented prettily.

He looks like an absolute snack, and it’s tempting to just take him like that, but McCreary didn’t get where he is by giving in to every little urge. Admittedly, he gives in to a lot of his urges, but mostly only if they involve murder. This one, he can hold strong to. Despite the heady smell of Murphy’s arousal filling the room, McCreary handles him roughly, as if he can hardly be bothered to touch him.

Around his knees, just above the joint, McCreary affixes one more tool. Leather cuffs, and cold steel between them, a spreader bar holding Murphy in place exactly where McCreary wants him. Murphy falls to his elbows with a whimper, natural instincts telling him what to do even though he knows there’s no Alpha around to knot him proper. It’s unfair to both of them, but as McCreary takes in the sight of Murphy, he can’t be that upset about his lot in life.

With Murphy so beautifully spead before him, breathing heavy through his nose and flushed down to his shoulders, McCreary decides to take mercy on him. At least, that’s how he justifies it to himself. In all honesty, he’s indulging his own urges as much as he’s satisfying Murphy’s.

He runs his fingers along the length of Murphy’s spine, watching every tremor, drinking in every quavering breath and small whine. His Omega is fully in heat now, desperate for an Alpha. For McCreary, because even though McCreary can’t breed him, he can fuck him better than anyone else on the face of the planet.

Murphy’s slick shines in the light, a tantalizing end goal for McCreary. As tempting as it is to just drop his pants and fuck Murphy until the Omega can’t walk for days, he knows it will do no good. As a Beta satisfying an Omega, he has to be careful. Trick both physiology and psychology into thinking it’s getting what it wants, lure at least a dozen orgasms out of Murphy before he slakes his own lust. Murphy’s refractory period is near zero until his heat starts to wane, and any Alpha’s would follow suit, but McCreary is no Alpha. He is, however, a huge patron of the sex toy industry, and possesses an incredible grip strength.

When he reaches Murphy’s lower back, McCreary takes advantage of his prone position to deliver several stinging blows to Murphy’s ass. Although the flesh turns an alluring cotton candy pink, Murphy doesn’t make any pained noises. He presses back into the harsh contact, muted moans filtering around his gag. 

Content that Murphy’s projecting his desires obviously enough, McCrery wastes no more time. He sinks two fingers into Murphy’s ass, barely meeting any resistance in the lubricated muscles. Murphy makes a high keening noise, and McCreary chuckles. His boy always puts up such a big front, but in the end he just wants to get fucked and filled like anyone else. McCreary is more than happy to oblige, sinking a third finger into Murphy, spreading them to stretch him. It’s barely enough to get a satisfied grunt, Murphy being the greedy little Omega that he always is.

“You expect me to do all the work here? Come on, Omega,” McCreary sneers around the word, as if it’s a slur, “you’re the one who wants this, remember?”

Murphy makes a violent noise in the back of his throat, curse smothered by silicone, but his hips start moving anyway, fucking himself back onto McCreary’s hand. He strains at the edges on his bonds; not struggling to cover himself, but fighting to spread himself more. The spreader bar holds his greedy thighs in place, his wrists bound close together by leather so he can’t quite prostrate himself fully on the ground.

It’s intoxicating, watching his boy fuck himself, desperate for more. Any lesser Alpha or Beta would be ruined by Murphy, but McCreary can handle him. He’s the only one who can coax him through the desperation of his heat. McCreary curls his fingers for a moment, reminding Murphy of this, clawing at that place deep inside where Murphy wants him so badly. He earns a strangled noise for his efforts, which goes straight to his already rock hard cock.

McCreary leans forward, angling his wrist so he can speak into Murphy’s neck while still fingering him brutally. He slips his pinky in with a savage growl that Murphy answers with a low whine.

“No one else can touch you like this. You’re mine, remember?” McCreary hisses the words in Murphy’s ears, feeling Murphy clench around him. It’s good, but not enough, not nearly so.

Saliva filling his mouth, McCreary swallows thickly. Murphy’s neck is so close, his scent glands seeping pheromones to the point that anyone could smell them. Let them smell; McCreary is the only one who gets to taste. He proves this by licking over the back of Murphy’s neck, tasting sweat and sugar sweet heat. He devours his heated skin as he drives his fingers into Murphy, aiding him in the frantic bucking of his hips.

Murphy begins making pathetic noises, whining around the gag. He must be just about ready to burst, but heat won’t let him. No, in heat the only satisfaction he’ll get is from an Alpha’s knot. McCreary lacks that physical ability, but that won’t hold him back. Nothing has ever held him back; it might take him longer, but he’ll carve the same life for himself that any Alpha might have, and he’ll deserve it more.

“You want my knot, huh?” McCreary growls against the back of Murphy’s neck. Murphy nods, even though the slick gushing from him could be taken as pretty clear indicator of that.

With one more feral noise, McCreary curls his fingers inside of Murphy into a savage claw, notching his knuckles within the burning ring of muscle. He digs his teeth into Murphy’s neck, free hand curling around the other side to dig nails into flesh. It’s hard, giving an Omega in heat enough stimulation to come without a knot and Alpha pheromones driving them, but damned if McCreary doesn’t deliver.

As he grind his teeth into Murphy’s neck, Murphy comes, painting the floor with his jizz. He clenches around McCreary’s hand, locking the fake knot within himself. He makes a cacophony of noises, mindless in his pleasure. McCreary coaxes him through it as best he can, digging a temporary mark into his neck and scenting him as thoroughly as a Beta ever can.

When Murphy gradually relaxes, McCreary stops dragging claw marks into his neck, freeing that hand to release the ball gag. The rest of the restraints, he leaves in place; Murphy hasn’t earned that yet.

“Now, Omega, have you decided to be a little nicer?” McCreary asks.

“Fuck-” Murphy cuts off with a moan as McCreary thrusts his fingers once more, “Yesss.”

McCreary smiles at the response. Oh yes, he’s glad he waited for this Omega. Very glad indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot thank my beta Etra enough for editing these all, she's incredible! Please keep her in your prayers, given what trash I send her lol
> 
> [tumblr](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)


End file.
